Page 95 of Scarlet Secrets

“Demyan…”

“Hush.”

He soaps up and cleans me carefully, lovingly—even though he doesn’t believe in love… That’s what he said, right? Not romantic love. But for now, it doesn’t matter. My emotions are a chaotic storm and when he says mine, I like it. The word is like an anchor.

After the shower, he takes me to bed, pulling me against his clean, hard body, the heat of him warming me everywhere.

He smells good. Like the lavender, honey, spice, and leather. It’s a wonderful smell.

Demyan kisses me again and twines our hands. “I meant it—you’re mine. I don’t want you flirting. And Erin,Lyubimaya, if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll end them.”

I bite my lip, unsure of what to say. I shouldn’t like this domination, this stamp of ownership he’s giving, but I do. The fact he’ll do anything for me and Sasha is hot. And himnot wanting me to flirt, his notice of those men appreciating me, makes me feel seen.

And that’s new.

I don’t think my ex, Toby, cared if someone flirted with me. Ever.

We talk about Sasha, about how wonderful he is, and Demyan starts talking about kindergarten, but I don’t have the strength to say how he has a place for when he’s old enough. Then the talk shifts to the evening. I want to ask about this Sergio they mentioned in the car, but I remember Ilya’s reaction at the bar, so I don’t.

I slowly drift off, and I’m almost asleep, or maybe I am, and he just wakes me when he starts swearing.

I reach for Demyan, but he’s on his feet, dressed, his phone lit up in his hand. He leans down and brushes a kiss on my lips. “You live in here with me now.” Then his eyes soften. “I have to go.”

His phone buzzes; it’s clearly another text. I struggle up. “Where?”

The message is in Russian, but the time on his phone flashes as he sets it down to lean in and kiss me once more.

It’s after midnight.

“Not your concern,Lyubimaya,” he says.

“But…”

He doesn’t give me a chance to finish my sentence as he sweeps up his phone to make a call, striding out and speaking Russian.

I try to go back to sleep, but I can’t, so I get up and prowl his room for clothes. In the end, I pull on a T-shirt of his and my underwear. Hesitating, I root around to find some workout shorts and pull on a pair.

After checking on Sasha, who’s fast asleep, hugging his toy, I decide I need help falling asleep. Hot chocolate sounds divine.

The light’s on in the kitchen and I find Alina there, curled up at the breakfast nook, with what looks like coffee and an open bottle of bourbon. I make the hot chocolate and she slides the bottle to me.

“It’ll help,” she says, eyes red-rimmed. “I thought I heard you come in not long after Ilya took me home. Let me guess, Demyan wanted Sasha to wake up here.”

“Something like that.”

“He’s gung ho on making a home for him, Erin.”

“So he said.” I glance at her. “You look exhausted.”

“Sleep’s… hard. I miss Max so damn much.”

Shit. I go to hug her and she’s stiff for a moment, then she relaxes and cries. When she slows, she tops her coffee with bourbon and takes a large swallow, topping it off some more and pouring some into my cup.

“He was a special guy. And he loved you so much. I know that.” I stop. “And Demyan’s here.”

“Demyan is Demyan. He’s trying his best, but he doesn’t know what to do. Except get revenge. I don’t want to worry about him, too. And I don’t know if I have the bandwidth.”

I take her hand and squeeze. She knows Demyan’s there for her, but I’ve seen how he isn’t sure how to deal with things that are too emotional, so I just slide the subject to what she wants. Max.

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